


The Camera Loves You (And So Do I)

by meiface



Category: Free!
Genre: Childhood Friends, Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Modeling, Post-Canon, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiface/pseuds/meiface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Makoto takes up modeling for the university magazine, Haru learns a few things, among them that he should listen more carefully when Makoto talks and that Rin is too distracted by meeting swimming legends to give much advice. Somehow, he muddles through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Camera Loves You (And So Do I)

**Author's Note:**

> Working title: _are a you model or can i just see myself in your pants?_
> 
> I reworked this fic a couple times, because I started it back after ep 11, post epic MakoHaru fight, pre RinHaru trip to Australia, when all we knew was that Makoto was going to Tokyo for university. My headcanon and canon converged (thank you precognition and Kyoani!!) in that Haru chose to follow Makoto while pursuing competitive swimming (while Mako did not), but I had to rewrite in order to put them at separate unis and ship Rin off to Australia because canon. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Rin’s girlfriend was Australian and blonde. Her name was Hannah and she was a swimmer too, because Rin’s entire life revolved around one thing. He seemed happy, though, when he managed to Skype or remembered to send a message. Sometimes he attached pictures of him and Hannah together, grinning and brandishing peace signs.

Gou was dating Yamazaki Sousuke, much to Rin’s horror when he found out. “Niisan’s in Australia,” Gou said feelingly upon his discovery and sputtering outrage. “He doesn’t get to tell me what to do.” Not that she would’ve listened to him even if he were still in Japan with the rest of them, Haru suspected. Haru didn’t understand why Rin was upset, as he seemed to like Sousuke fine as a friend. Wasn’t that better than some stranger he didn’t know dating his sister?

Makoto had gone on dates with a number of girls, but had never seen anyone seriously. The one who had lasted the longest (Kanae-san, for a month during the winter) had been nice, but her relationship with Makoto meant Haru had barely seen Makoto that whole month with all the holidays. He’d been relieved when Makoto had broken up with her, then guilty, but Makoto didn’t seem very bothered by it so it had probably been all right.

Nagisa and Rei were ostensibly single, but Haru had his suspicions. Rei was at Tokyo University now and Nagisa made a suspicious number of trips from Iwatobi to see him, with a frequency that far outstripped how often he stopped by Haru and Makoto’s universities to say hi. And he came by pretty often.

Tachibana Ren was dating. Makoto had been kind and supportive, which Haru found much more reasonable from an older sibling, even if he also found the idea of either of the twins old enough to be in a relationship bizarre. Ran, on the other hand, was happy to shrug off all interested parties, declaring she was too busy with student council and track. 

Even Kisumi was dating, or so Haru heard from Makoto, a local girl back home in Iwatobi. Apparently they were very sweet. Haru had no idea why Makoto insisted on updating him about Kisumi’s life.

Haru had been on two dates. The first one was with a girl from his first-year economics class who had asked him out to coffee. They’d had coffee, cake, a walk in the park, and it had all been very pleasant but boring. Haru had mostly listened to her talk. She’d been outgoing, at least, and pretty. Makoto had said the date would be a good experience for him, but he’d also said, later, that if Haru didn’t like her that way, he shouldn’t string her along. So he hadn’t.

The second date he had initiated with a girl who volunteered at the animal clinic where Makoto also helped out on weekends. Haru stopped by with him sometimes when he was free, which wasn’t often, given his training schedule. She had been soft-spoken with gentle hands, and the animals all seemed to thrive under her attention. Mostly Haru had loved her smile, sweet and warm. It had tugged at a rising sense of home in his chest, so he’d asked her out.

It hadn’t gone beyond one date because Haru had kissed her, and she’d pulled away, tears in her eyes, apologizing. It wasn’t him; she was so sorry. She just wasn’t ready to move on. She and her ex-boyfriend...things were complicated.

So that had been the extent of Haru’s romantic entanglements, and he’d been fine with it. He had swimming. Every day, it was practice in the morning, training at the gym, pushing himself to improve, to shave off every millisecond. He had classes too, useless ones and interesting ones, interspersed with an occasional lunch or study date with Makoto, who seemed to thrive at university, sociable and cheerful and making new friends every day, it seemed.

Haru’s life had a routine, but he liked it. His routine had a purpose. He had a purpose. And he wasn’t easily distracted from it.

But then a girl named Kirishima Ayane changed his life, all because he hadn’t been listening closely enough to Makoto’s chatter over lunch. In the end, the distraction had felled him too.

It wasn’t as if Haru always tuned him out, but Makoto always had a lot to say and it wasn’t always _important_ (see: the life updates about Shigino Kisumi). Haru had been -- reasonably, in his opinion -- distracted by his poor practice times that morning. So he didn’t hear every word Makoto said about his university magazine and photoshoots and Kirishima-san because he’d been thinking about his turns, worried they’d gotten sloppy.

Later, he would wish he’d been paying closer attention. It might have saved him a few weeks of grief.

*

It started when Haru looked up in the locker room and saw Makoto’s face staring back at him. He blinked, taken aback.

“Takaba-san,” he said.

He got a muffled “Yeah?” in reply from Takaba, who was bent over beside him toweling off his hair.

“Why do you have photos of Makoto in your locker?”

There was the picture from what looked to be a magazine with Makoto on a bench with a girl he didn’t recognize. They were in front of what looked like the university engineering building, cuddled close together with heads tilted towards each other. Makoto’s arm extended along the back of the bench and the girl had a few books on their lap. 

A second picture beside that one showed the same girl, this time in a cozy cafe with coffee mugs and warm lighting and Makoto smiling across the table at her. Where in the first picture Makoto had been laughing, this time his expression was soft. It was a familiar expression; Haru had seen it nearly all his life.

It was strange to see it directed at someone else, particularly someone Haru didn’t recognize.

“Oh!” said Takaba as he finally popped up, hair ruffled. “That’s my girlfriend!” he said. “She goes to Y University. She models for the art club and then a couple of friends asked for her help, so she started doing some work for them too. It’s for the university magazine, you know, their fluff pieces or whatever. Her friends are in charge of style, so they set up all these photoshoots.”

He tapped the pictures, smiling a silly little smile. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”

“Sure,” said Haru. Why was Makoto there?

Takaba turned his grin on Haru. “That guy -- Tachibana Makoto, right? He’s helping out too. I thought he would’ve told you! You guys are good friends, right? I see him come by practice sometimes.”

Haru slung his goggles into his locker and shut it. “Yes, we’re friends. I guess he just forgot to mention.”

He wasn’t sure why he felt weird about that, looking back at the two pictures hanging up in Takaba’s locker. Makoto looked good, but he always looked good. Tall, broad-shouldered, _with the best back muscles I’ve ever seen_ , Gou still sighed dreamily. Coming from her, that was high praise indeed.

Makoto was good-looking. Haru knew that. And friendly and approachable. It was partly why he was so popular at school, even though he was no longer swimming competitively. Or maybe because he wasn’t swimming competitively, in that he had more time to make friends rather than swimming endless laps the way Haru did. No wonder Rin had ended up dating another swimmer; would he have had time to meet anyone else?

Haru was thankful on a fairly regular basis that he and Makoto had ended up in Tokyo together, though Haru had ended up at W University and Makoto at Y University. He’d had his choice of schools, given the scouts interested in him, and it had been an easy decision to pick one in Tokyo knowing Makoto would be there. Sometimes it struck him, looking back, just how much things had changed since elementary school, when Makoto had been in the lane next to him, or the hand at the edge of the pool to help him out. These days… Well, these days they had grown up, changed, and so had their friendship.

Haru was lost in thought as he left the gym, stepping into the flow of students headed to their morning class, probably the first of the day. With swim practice at the crack of dawn, the day had barely begun for the rest of campus by the time Haru emerged from the pool, hair damp and probably still smelling of chlorine. Makoto had confided before, cheerily, that that was one thing he didn’t miss about being on the swim team.

For all that, Haru knew he still routinely stopped by the gym with the public pool on his campus, the one open to all students, and swam laps. Makoto might not have craved the water the way Haru did, but after a lifetime of swimming, he couldn’t leave it entirely behind, even if he wasn’t pursuing it competitively the way Haru and Rin were.

Especially since he was probably going to coach, Haru thought. Makoto hadn’t made any commitments in that direction, had only said he liked kids and wanted to teach, hence his studying of education. But Haru remembered the first time Makoto had coached, back at ITSC RETURNS, and the way he had been lit up the whole time. He would be a good coach. He would be a good teacher.

He would probably make a good boyfriend, Haru thought, doodling bulldogs, the W University mascot, in the margins of his notebook instead of listening to the history lecture. Good boyfriends required similar qualities of good coaches: patience, empathy, kindness, attention. Makoto had all of that in spades. And he looked -- well. Haru felt suddenly a little warm, uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts. Makoto looked _like that_ , tall, fluffy hair, that smile, eyes that were always warm and welcoming.

Haru flashed back to those images of Makoto with Takaba’s girlfriend, posing sweetly for the camera but looking so real. It could easily be a different girl with Makoto in reality. Makoto had dated before, after all, if not frequently at least regularly. Haru had made his peace with it before. It was only a drag when the dates cut into the little free time Haru had to hang out with Makoto, and then they’d go for a week without seeing each other once, which was always jarring.

The thought preoccupied Haru all the way until lunch, where he met Makoto outside the university cafeteria. They traded off who would come to the other’s campus, and sometimes met in between at sundry cafes. Makoto was perched on a ledge, playing with his phone, his bookbag beside him. He looked up as Haru approached.

He could just as easily be waiting for his girlfriend, Haru mused.

“Hi, Haru-chan!” Makoto said cheerfully.

“Are you dating someone right now?” 

That...was not what he’d meant to say.

Makoto stared at him, wide-eyed. “Er, no. Not at the moment. What prompted that?”

Well, he hadn’t meant to ask like that. 

“Sorry, it’d just been on my mind,” he said awkwardly. “I mean, I saw those pictures of you with Takaba’s girlfriend in the university magazine.” He turned, heading towards an open table, hoping Makoto didn’t sense his embarrassment.

If he did, he didn’t say anything. Of course he wouldn’t. “Oh, those! Yeah, Kirishima-san was doing a favor for a friend and they needed more guys, so they asked me. It was fun.” Makoto followed him to the table. “It was kind of weird to have a camera so close to you and following you all the time, and having people tell you how to pose, but everyone was really nice. And we got to change outfits a few times.”

Haru listened absently as he pulled out his bento. “You looked good,” he said quietly when Makoto paused for breath.

Makoto blushed. “Haru-chan,” he said, laughing a little. “Thank you. It was fun to pretend to be a model for a day.”

“Not chan,” Haru said automatically. And then, “Do you want some of my lunch?”

Makoto smiled and reached over to ruffle his hair, which made him wrinkle his nose. “I’m going to go buy something, don’t worry about it. I’ll be right back.”

Watching him go, Haru unpacked his chopsticks and thought, idly, that he’d have to wake up extra early one morning to make Makoto a bento. It was a nice thing to do for your friends once in a while and Haru needed to make sure Makoto got enough proper food. He didn’t know what they had over at Y University, but if it was anything like what was offered here… And it wasn’t as if Haru weren’t already making massive portions all the time anyway. Swimming burnt calories like crazy. The way he ate lately, he was thankful he had the pool and gym to keep him fit.

He wondered if Makoto’s casual swims were enough to keep him trim, or if he did anything else. The back muscles, as Gou said, were still perfect, but his hips and thighs seemed to be in good shape for someone no longer swimming competitively.

Then he realized what he was speculating over and went hot with embarrassment. At least Makoto wasn’t around to see the tips of his ears turn red.

*

The problem with your closest friends being scattered around the country -- and the world -- after high school was that it meant there was a lot of messaging. Haru had never loved keeping track of his phone, but it was almost a necessity these days if he didn’t want any of his friends to think he’d accidentally walked into traffic or drowned.

Keeping up with his phone these days meant being only 20 minutes late to meet Nagisa at the cafe two train stops away. “Haru-chan!” Nagisa called, waving from a table near the back. He already had a foamy drink in front of him.

“Hi,” Haru said, sliding into the seat across from him. He dropped his notebooks and folders onto the tabletop and shrugged off his bag.“How’s Rei? He couldn’t make it?”

“Super busy with a group project,” Nagisa said. “I brought him a care package! Gou’s homemade cookies and chrysanthemum tea and all sorts of goodies.” He waved again, this time for a waitress. “No Mako-chan?” he asked, as she came their way.

Haru ordered a plain green tea and some bread. He could always eat.

“No, he was doing something with a study group or something.”

Nagisa’s face fell. “Ugh, studying. Next time he better come! I haven’t seen him in so long! Or you guys should make a trip back to Iwatobi. Gou-chan and Sou-chan and everyone will be thrilled to see you.”

Haru could only imagine Yamazaki Sousuke’s thrill. “I’m sure,” he said dryly.

“Well, you’ll definitely have to come back for Obon,” Nagisa said positively. “Though you should come back at the start of summer vacation.”

“That’s still a month away, Nagisa.”

Nagisa shrugged, dismissing the fact airily. Then his eye caught on Haru’s things on the table and he snagged the magazine from the pile. “Oho, what’s this? This looks interesting.”

Haru bit his lip. He’d picked up the latest issue of Y University’s magazine because he’d wanted to see the modeling Makoto had done for it and if there was more than just the two pictures he’d seen hung up in Takaba’s locker. It was strange, almost, like seeing Makoto living a life completely without Haru, which was -- obviously they led separate lives, but so much of those lives had been constantly entangled. It was strange not to know what Makoto was doing.

“Page 44,” he said. He’d flipped through it earlier, before he’d realized his phone at been chirping message alerts at him and he was late to meet Nagisa for his third trip to Tokyo this month. “Makoto did some modeling for the issue. There’s a fashion thing that starts on page 44 that he’s in.”

“Ooooh,” said Nagisa, eyes widening.

A few moments of scrutiny, a few ruffled pages, and Nagisa breathed, “Oh, Mako-chan looks _good_.”

He did. There were only two other photos beyond the two Haru had already seen of Makoto with Kirishima. There was one more of Makoto solo, face turned up towards the sky and sunlight dappling over his face from between the branches of the university’s trees. He was in some kind of fashionable outfit, Haru presumed (capris, really?), but whatever he was wearing fit him well and highlighted the breadth of his shoulders. The second picture was a group of three male students arranged on the same bench as Makoto and Kirishima’s picture, but here two of them were slouched across it, expressions insolent, while Makoto stood behind them, hip cocked and gazing into the distance with an equally disaffected look. The three of them were dressed in shades of gray and black, crisp button-up shirts purposefully disheveled, looking far too fashionable for the typical university student and closer to what Haru imagined an escort would look like (he wasn’t entirely sure).

“Nice!” Nagisa continued, studying the photos. “Whoever did the styling on this did great work.” He grinned across at Haru. “It looks fun, playing dress up like that! Kind of like when Gou-chan made us do all those things when we were trying to promote the swim club.”

Haru didn’t know if he remembered those days as fondly. “Makoto said he had fun,” he said instead.

Nagisa sighed and went back to his foamy drink, flipping idly between the pages of the magazine. “I wish Rei-chan had time to do something like this. I would pick out all his outfits and he could model them all so beautifully.”

“I’d be interested in seeing the kinds of things you made him wear,” Haru muttered, because he knew Nagisa.

Nagisa’s smile turned wicked. His eyes sparkled. “I don’t know, Haru-chan. Would you really?”

“Ugh.” Haru kicked him lightly under the table and Nagisa giggled, sunny as ever. He had foam on his lip as the waitress returned with Haru’s tea and bread, and her smile was indulgent when it landed on him. No one could resist Nagisa’s cuteness, it seemed, just like no one could resist Makoto. They had two very different types of charms, but nonetheless those charms seemed to work on all, young and old, male or female.

There was a thought there, one step forward, that Haru hadn’t let himself take in years. He wasn’t sure he was brave enough to take it now, so he sipped his tea and caught up with Nagisa instead about work at ITSC RETURNS and Sousuke’s training as a physical therapist and how, evidently, Kisumi’s little brother was the star of his swim class. (Seriously, why did everyone think Haru cared about Kisumi’s life?)

They sat for a long time, chatting, but Nagisa eventually had to go catch his train and Haru had to head back to his apartment so he could attempt some homework before sleeping early. Having to wake up early every day meant far fewer exciting nights for him, not that there had been that many to begin with.

But as the sun sank past the horizon, Haru let Nagisa squeeze him tightly in farewell and waved him off toward the station. Makoto’s apartment building was only two streets away. Haru might as well check if he were home. He could use some company as he did his work and Makoto had told Haru countless times before to stop by whenever he wanted. _Just like back in Iwatobi,_ he’d said with a smile.

The lights in Makoto’s apartment on the second floor were on. Haru grinned to himself and took the stairs. 

But before he could knock, he caught a glimpse through the half-drawn blinds of a girl, back to him, a cascade of long black hair down her back. Makoto sat beside her, turned towards her -- like the photo on the bench, Haru thought -- and he had a hand on her knee.

That was definitely a date. Haru stepped back. That was definitely a date that he shouldn’t interrupt.

His stomach twisted as he hurried back down the stairs, onto the street, toward the train station. _What study group?_ Was this why Makoto had turned down spending the night with him and Nagisa? It wasn’t -- he shouldn’t -- 

Haru felt betrayed, because he always put his friendship with Makoto first. It was galling that Makoto didn’t seem to do the same.

When Haru stumbled into his apartment twenty minutes later, he closed the door behind him carefully. He stood in the entrance way for a moment, just breathing. He was being unfair. Makoto had every right to date. He’d dated before. Haru hadn’t enjoyed it, but he recognized that it was what people their age did. It was expected. 

_But he shouldn’t lie to his friends_. Haru was sure. _He shouldn’t lie to_ me.

*

“Are you a fucking dumbass,” Rin said over Skype. “Haru, you can’t just make assumptions like that. Makoto never lies to you. You’ve known him since you were born! Has he ever lied to you? You got into your first freaking fight with him because he _didn’t_ lie to you. Oh my god, this is so stupid, let’s talk about something else.”

Haru rubbed his forehead and winced, staring up at the ceiling above his bed. Rin may have had a point.

“Did I tell you I met Ian Thorpe? Fucking legend! But I’m totally going to break all his records.”

“Hannah wants me to have dinner with her family and it’s freaking me out. I mean, I’ve met her parents, they’re at like every major meet, but having dinner with them is different. It’s _formal._ ”

“Haru, are you even listening to a word I’m saying?”

“Half,” Haru muttered, thoughts still partly on Makoto.

“Figures,” Rin sighed again, but this time it was tinged with affection. “Just talk to him. It’s not a big deal. Like Makoto could hide from you if he were dating someone, anyway.”

*

Being who they were, it didn’t take long to see Makoto again. In fact, the very next morning he was cheerfully banging on Haru’s door, letting himself in with the key, and popping into the bathroom, shaking his head when he found Haru soaking in the tub.

“Haru-chan,” he scolded. “I know you hate taper because you can’t swim, but you can’t stay all day in there either. C’mon.”

Haru narrowed his eyes and sank deeper into the water for a moment. He did hate taper, but he knew better than to mess with their coach's strict instructions with prefectures coming up soon. Most swimmers loved the excuse -- mandate -- to take it easy and rest up, but not Haru. It made him antsy. He'd rather be in the water, where everything made sense; he did his best thinking in the water. But he knew the importance of taper and he wouldn't risk either his coach's wrath or his own chances at competition.

Makoto extended his hand to help Haru up, his palm warm and dry against Haru’s dripping wet skin. Haru’s eyes snagged on his collarbones, framed by the collar of his shirt -- just like the photo from the magazine, black and gray dress shirts, half-buttoned. The skin there looked soft, warm; Haru could see the gentle throb of Makoto’s pulse and for a second he could imagine putting his mouth there. It would taste faintly of salt and skin, and maybe a hint of chlorine if Makoto had been to the pool recently. His own pulse throbbed loudly in his ears.

“Ayy, Haru, hurry up and dry off or you’re catch a cold!” Makoto pulled away to toss Haru’s towel over him. “I’ll go make some tea while you change, okay? Then we can get breakfast.”

Haru stood by himself in the bathroom, towel around his shoulders and something like terror seizing his chest.

Maybe someone else had put their mouth on Makoto already. If he were dating -- maybe that girl from last night -- then it wasn’t just Haru who could picture himself touching Makoto, kissing him. And when had Haru let himself cross that line?

He’d never thought about Makoto like that before. He’d come close, dozens, maybe hundreds of times over the course of their lifelong friendship, but he’d always pulled away just shy. Makoto was his best friend, a childhood friend. He wasn’t made for Haru to think about like that.

Haru frowned. In the other room, he could hear Makoto humming the latest poppy chart-topper to himself as he made tea.

Was he?

*

The girl’s name was Odagiru Keiko, Makoto explained. She was in his study group and had seemed sad, so he’d asked her afterwards if she wanted to talk. She’d recently been broken up with, Makoto said, looking sorrowful. And not only that, but cheated on. Sometimes people were terrible. There’d been a hard look in his eyes then. Sometimes people did terrible things to hurt each other.

Haru didn’t know what to say, confused and mostly relieved. But Makoto looked upset that someone would do something like that to hurt the person they were seeing, so Haru reached out and squeezed his hand. He said the only thing he was thinking, honestly: “I would never hurt you like that.” Not deliberately. Not ever.

The hardness in Makoto’s eyes melted into something else, indecipherable. He squeezed back and whispered, “I would never hurt you either, Haru.” Haru didn’t know if he meant his words the way they sounded, or in a different way altogether.

*

Taper continued, as did school. Haru wrestled with his feelings. The following were a selection of messages he received that week:

From: nagitan272@softbank.jp  
Subject: ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ  
 _Haru-chan, I showed the pics of Mako-chan to Gou-chan and Sou-chan. Gou-chan said he’s a STAR. *:。.:*:・’゜☆.。.:*・ Make sure to get his autograph!_

From: matsuoka.rin@gmail.com  
Subject:   
_DINNER WITH HANNAH’S FAMILY TONIGHT OH GOD_

From: tachibana.makoto@y.university.jp  
Subject: Sorry  
 _I can’t do dinner on Wednesday, but how about Thursday? ^^_

From: rantachibana97@docomo.jp  
Subject: Breaking news!!  
 _Ran and his girlfriend broke up!! ╥_╥ Niichan said he’d come back for Obon. You’re going to come too, right?_

From: ryugazaki_rei@todai.jp  
Subject: Regarding last week...  
 _I’m very sorry I couldn’t meet with you and Nagisa last week, Haru-senpai. I will definitely make it next time. I hope things are well with you and Makoto-senpai!_

From: ryugazaki_rei@todai.jp  
Subject: Re: Regarding last week...  
 _Nagisa sent me some photos of Makoto-senpai in a magazine. BEAUTIFUL!!_

From: matsuoka.rin@gmail.com  
Subject: Update  
 _Survived dinner. Kicked ass in morning practice. All is well! How's it going with you?_

From: nagitan272@softbank.jp  
Subject: !!!  
 _penguinbitchslap.gif_

From: nagitan272@softbank.jp  
Subject: Re: !!!  
 _hahaha you know which one is me (｡－‿ ◕｡)_

From: tachibana.makoto@y.university.jp  
Subject: Friday  
 _Haru, Kirishima-san is looking for more people to help out with this month’s issue! She said we can bring friends. Do you wanna come with me? But only if you’re free^^ I know prefectures are coming up._

*

Haru should definitely have said no. The stuffed shark named Bruce -- a gift from Rin naturally, who’d loved _Finding Nemo_ \-- seemed to agree with him. Its beady eyes regarded him solemnly. He wasn’t looking forward to being dressed up and paraded around, poked and prodded into posing before a camera. He wasn’t _unused_ to it, after Gou’s management at Iwatobi, and certain obligatory duties that came part and parcel of being part of the university’s competitive swim team, but he still should have said no to Kirishima-san.

But that was the problem: it had been Makoto who’d asked and Haru had never been very good at saying no to him.

_Haru, let’s go~!_ His phone beeped with a message from Makoto, announcing his arrival at Haru’s door simultaneous to the knock-knock-knock.

“You have a key,” Haru told him when he opened the door.

“And you should still answer your door once a while,” Makoto replied cheekily. He waited as Haru put on his shoes and then followed him reluctantly towards the stairs.

“I’m so glad you’re coming with me,” Makoto said. “It’ll be fun to have you around.” His arm nudged Haru’s. He was smiling, as always, but it made Haru smile back involuntarily.

The days were creeping towards summer so it was too warm under the sun, hot on the back of his neck. But Haru didn’t dread this photoshoot as much suddenly, with Makoto at his side. It was hard to be in a bad mood when Makoto was so cheerful. He was glad Makoto seemed excited that Haru would be tagging along.

The photoshoot was taking place at the Y University library that day, Yoshida Daitaro explained. He was a third-year studying art and media, in charge for the layout of the magazine. The fashion editor in charge of the wardrobe was dating an engineer at Todai, and the photographer was a fourth year with a mohawk. He talked with a Kansai accent but made it sound cool. 

Again, it wasn’t that Haru didn’t _listen_. He just retained selective information after the cursory introductions. Sometimes things like names slipped by.

Aside from Makoto, Haru, and Kirishima Ayane, there were two other girls, both with long hair (but neither of them Odagiru Keiko, Haru noted with a small sense of relief and a larger sense of guilt), and a brooding archer who glowered at Haru in a way that reminded him of Sosuke in the early days. He had been one of the three guys in the escort picture, as Haru privately referred to it.

Makoto was friendly to all of them and Haru wasn’t particularly chatty, but that was the norm for them. 

Haru watched Makoto talk and laugh with everyone as they were handed their assigned outfits. He changed absently in the university’s library bathroom along with the other guys, stripping quickly. He had practice taking off his clothes. Putting them on was fussier. Beside him, the photographer -- Ikeda? -- said something that made Makoto laugh, head thrown back and the length of his throat exposed. The same unexpected heat from before caught Haru off-guard, a wave of something like want crashing over him.

He bit his lip, and Makoto caught his eye. He came over.

“Are you okay, Haru?” Makoto was smiling, but concern was visible in his eyes. 

“I’m fine,” said Haru.

Makoto touched his shoulder. “You look nice.”

Haru glanced down at his clothes, bemused. 

“Daitaro says he’s going to try for a different theme this time. That’s why we need more people than before too. He’s really talented, you know. It’s really amazing to see him at work.” He smiled. “And it’s fun, like I told you.”

“Makoto,” Haru said, but then the words got stuck in his throat. 

Makoto looked at him curiously, patiently.

“Haru?” he prompted.

Haru didn’t know what he wanted to say. Makoto looked good too, in the clothes picked out for him. It was a simple striped shirt, blue and white, but it fit him well and looked crisp and clean. The fashion director must have had an eye for his collarbones too, because the shirt’s collar, just like the ones from the previous shoot, was open at the throat, creating a vee of skin that was driving Haru a little crazy.

He wet his lips, darted his eyes away. “Nothing. I mean --”

Before he could say anything more, Yoshida called, “Come on, come on! Let’s get this show on the road!” Haru stepped away and Makoto sighed, sounding a little bit disappointed, but followed him.

*

The theme was claustrophobic: too close, too much. That was how Yoshida explained it as he arranged the models, positioning them first around a table piled high with haphazard stacks of books, camera lens zooming in from close quarters. He carried a kind of frenetic energy to his direction, instructions and commentary tripping off his tongue, his gaze intense as he circled the table, critiquing from all angles.

There were instances where Haru had to steel himself from Yoshida bending in too close to him. Fortunately, Yoshida seemed to find Haru’s unimpressed look ideal for the camera.

Makoto bore Yoshida’s instructions with good cheer. He had the benefit of prior experience, however, and a personality much more welcoming of people than Haru.

After what was surely a hundred unnecessary photos of them from all angles, in various groups and poses, with one of the girls draped across the table at one point, her skirt slipping up to show more thigh than was probably proper, Yoshida was finally satisfied.

“Next,” he hollered, snapping his fingers.

The fashion director swooped in with a change of outfits and Haru said to Makoto, while struggling with the weird straps of the leather jacket that had been thrust at him, “This was fun?”

Makoto only laughed at him. “Well, it was for me.”

“Of course you would have fun,” he muttered. He frowned at a zipper on the jacket pocket, unsure of whether it needed to be zipped or not.

At least he was wearing more than when his swim team had put together a charity calendar. That had involved a lot of standing around in very little, and not nearly enough time in the pool.

Yoshida tapped his foot impatiently as the fashion director shepherded them to a narrow stairwell between floors and handed them various bags and accessories, _for authenticity_. Haru rolled his eyes as the group of them, all six models, packed in shoulder to shoulder, crowding each other’s personal space. Ikeda, the photographer, moved to stand on the steps above them, and then circled around to the landing below, snapping photos all the while. Haru wasn’t sure whether he was listening to Yoshida’s directions or doing his own thing. He figured he trusted the guy with the camera more; he had the experience, right?

Ikeda pushed between them next, moving into the miniscule space between the models, to get headshots from a too-close range. His movement pushed Haru back into Makoto, who stood behind him and two steps down. Makoto was solid, the cotton of his thin shirt soft against Haru’s arms.

“Okay?” Makoto murmured, placing a steady hand on Haru’s hip.

Haru exhaled, then nodded. His chest felt tight. He didn’t like the feeling of being so close to other people, trapped almost; he preferred the water for a reason. But having Makoto there helped. He felt solid, like the anchor he’d always been to Haru, warm and familiar.

The way Haru was too aware of him was new. But that was his own problem, the way he couldn’t unsnag his attention from counting Makoto’s steady breaths.

For the next location, they changed outfits yet again (Haru was beginning to be impressed by the depths of their wardrobe) and shuffled to the front steps of the library. The girls, Kirishima and the two others, were giggling and chatting as they reemerged from the bathroom, easily friendly before Yoshida snapped directions at them.

For a while, they got to watch Ikeda circle the girls, then move in with the camera. Yoshida liked having their hair waterfall over the camera lens, a curtain around their faces.

“It’s kind of weird, but it’s kind of fun,” Haru conceded. Makoto grinned at him, as if he’d known all along Haru would be won over.

Yoshida looked satisfied when he pulled Ikeda away from the girls at last and then pointed him at Haru, Makoto, and the archer.

“Okay, so I’m thinking,” Yoshida said, “something like this.” He nudged Makoto into place beside Haru, then grabbed Makoto’s wrist and draped it over Haru’s shoulder. “Move closer. Put your heads together.”

Makoto obliged, moving towards Haru until Haru could feel his body heat all along his front. 

“Takazaki-kun, stand here. No, closer!”

Someone shifted in behind him, standing almost as near as Makoto was on the other side. Haru frowned, a little uncomfortable.

“Lean in -- yes, yes. Good.”

Haru could feel the archer , Takazaki, breathing against the back of his neck, skin prickling into gooseflesh. He inhaled sharply as a hand landed on his hip, right where Makoto’s had been earlier, but this was someone else. This was a stranger. 

The small smile on Makoto’s face faded as he tilted his head down in concern. “Haru,” he said softly. “Hey.”

Makoto rarely asked if Haru was okay aloud. He almost never had to. He knew from years of experience that Haru hated drawing attention to himself that way. But he knew all the same: he could read the way uneasiness was rising in Haru’s expression, the rapid beating of his heart. Takazaki kept breathing on him, and it was driving him a little crazy. _Stop breathing,_ he wanted to snap, but that seemed unreasonable. Haru was keenly aware of the weight of his hand.

Then Makoto leaned a little closer until their foreheads touched. His hair fell over his eyes, tickling Haru’s skin. “Haru,” he said again. He slid his hand off Haru’s shoulder and trailed it across Haru’s chest. It came a rest on his sternum, gentle.

Haru’s attention narrowed rapidly, snapping onto Makoto as the rest of the world vanished into the background.

He stared up, catching Makoto’s eyes. His heart thumped so hard in his chest Makoto must have been able to hear it. But his gaze didn’t waver from Haru, who bit his lip as a flush seemed to roll through him from head to toe, making his fingers curl into Makoto’s arm reflexively.

Makoto’s expression was almost unfamiliar, something unreadable in his eyes. All Haru could think was that if he just tipped his chin forward a little, he would be kissing him --

Makoto’s hand seemed heavy on his chest suddenly. Haru pictured it pressing him down, down, maybe back onto a bed, with Makoto looming over him, eyes as gentle as ever, but dark. The way he would look at Haru just before he kissed him thoroughly, leaving him panting and wanting more. And Makoto would keep looking at him, a wicked smile flirting on his lips as he ducked his head lower, until Haru would have to squeeze his eyes shut.

Haru breathed unsteadily.

Makoto’s gaze dropped, snagged on his parted lips.

“Perfect,” Yoshida said behind them. “ _Yes._ Ikeda, get in there -- are you getting this? More to the right, okay.”

Haru blinked and shivered, blood rushing as reality shuddering through him violently. The world returned in sharp focus, almost too sharp and bright, as all at once he was assailed by Yoshida’s voice, the murmur of Kirishima and the others behind him, the rapid _click-click-click_ of the camera shutter, the heat of Takazaki at his back and -- and Makoto from his front.

Sweat formed at the nape of Haru’s neck, prickling.

He hadn’t thought they could get any closer and still be decent, but at Yoshida’s urging, Makoto took another step forward. His thighs now pressed against Haru’s, their chests brushing together. His hand fell away from between them, coming to a rest low on Haru’s stomach

Buzzing in his ears, Haru swallowed hard and fought the heat flooding through him. He shut his eyes.

“Haru?” Makoto murmured. He sounded concerned.

Haru couldn’t look at him again. _Do you feel it too?_ he wanted to say, but the words seemed stalled, trapped by his swirling thoughts. The entire day had passed in fits of start-stop, long stretches of too close, too much. Something in Makoto’s eyes was unsettling Haru’s world. Makoto’s gaze seemed to pin him to the spot, hemmed in on all sides.

Claustrophobic, indeed.

In the loud silence of Takazaki’s breathing ( _still breathing_ , that guy), Ikeda’s rapidfire shutter clicks, and Haru’s thoughts, Makoto’s warm voice reached him. “Hey, it’s okay, Haru. We’ll be done soon.”

Haru opened his eyes to see Makoto looking down at him. The intense gaze from earlier had softened, the corners of his lips turned up. And that was the familiar look, the one Haru had recognized when turned on Kirishima in those initial photos from the last magazine issue. It was the way he had looked Haru all their lives, the smile when he handed Haru a dolphin charm or the other half of a popsicle.

Haru never wanted him to look at anyone else that way.

_Oh_ , he thought, and it felt like an exhale, a sigh of things falling into place.

*

From: nanase.haruka@wuniversity.jp  
Subject: (no subject)  
 _Can we talk?_

“Do you even know if he’s into guys?” Rin said, sounding concerned.

“No,” admitted Haru. “He’s only ever dated girls.”

“I mean, he’s been your best friend since you were kids. Do you think it would be weird --”

Talking Rin wasn’t nearly as reassuring as Haru had initially been hoping. Instead, they were retreading all his original fears.

“I don’t know,” he said. He pulled Bruce the stuffed shark into his lap, where slices of afternoon sunlight cut through the blinds of his apartment. “But I don’t know if I can go on the way we were before.” Not when he kept remembering the heat of Makoto’s body against his, warm and solid. Not with the way his heart leapt into his throat every time Makoto was near these days. 

“That’s like me and Sousuke and dating,” Rin said slowly, like it was a revelation. “ _Oh my god._ ”

He sounded vaguely horrified. Haru sighed. “Don’t get distracted, Rin. Should I just confess?” Haru had never been good at talking about his feelings, but he’d made an effort in the intervening years since high school and their memorable first fight. This would be new though. It was hard to predict how Makoto would react.

“Is me dating Sousuke worse than Gou dating Sousuke?” Rin mused aloud.

It was a legitimate question why Haru had turned to Rin to talk things out. “Do you want to be dating Sousuke?”

Rin scoffed. “No! Hannah’s great! I just don’t want Sousuke to be dating Gou!”

Bruce was as unimpressed with that answer as Haru. Haru pulled on his fins as Rin muttered about the things he would do when he saw Sousuke again and how he’d better be treating Gou well. From Nagisa’s tales about Iwatobi, Haru suspected they were doing just fine. As happy as Kisumi and his girlfriend, whoever she was. Makoto would scold him for forgetting her name, but Haru would ask why Makoto had bothered to tell him in the first place, only half-serious. It was fun to tease Makoto sometimes and see him red and flustered.

Haru smiled. He was cute when flustered.

“You know,” Rin said after a moment, his voice suddenly serious, “it might be worth it to say something to Makoto. I don’t know how he’ll take it but he’ll be kind. It’s Makoto. I can’t imagine him not caring about you, Haru, even if it’s not that way.”

His chest clenched. Rin was right. Makoto was always kind and he’d always care about Haru. The only thing was that Haru didn’t know if that was enough for him anymore, not when he daydreamed about kissing him, or taking his hand, or having Makoto’s gaze turned only towards him.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. Bruce looked encouraging, or at least not discouraging. “Thanks, Rin.”

“

Before Haru could find the time, or the courage, to say something, prefectures took place. They were hosted at Tokyo University, only five stops away by train, so Haru had his own contingent of fans cheering him on when he filed onto the pool deck in his warm-up gear, trying to shake the tension out of his limbs. He saw Rei and Nagisa sitting beside Makoto, and a red-haired guy who looked familiar. Kirishima was in the stands as well, undoubtedly there to cheer on Takaba.

Haru noticed them but he couldn’t get distracted before the swim: he was in the first heat for the 200m free and then he’d have time to kill before the 500m heats. He had to focus on the water. That, at least, was simple. The water had always made the most sense to Haru.

He won his 200m heat with what turned out to be the second best overall time. He would make the race the next day.

The cheers when the final overall times were listed on the board made him glance towards the bleachers again. Makoto was beaming, and Nagisa and Rei excitedly waving when he caught their eye. He smiled at them, a warm feeling in chest that they were here to support him. The years might have passed since their idyllic high school days, but the important relationships remained.

The thought stayed with Haru. He and Makoto -- and Rei and Nagisa and Rin, his closest friends -- were, in a way, even closer than they were before, despite the physical distance that separated them, because they trusted each other more. They had withstood the test of time. They knew they could survive fights and differences of opinions. 

It was the same with Makoto, who had been Haru's best friend since childhood. The idea of losing him was as terrifying as the coldest, most unknown sea could be. But Haru remembered their first fight, back in the second year of high school. He remembered finding himself in Australia, unfurling that path for his own future, but with a weight that had persisted in the back of his mind the entire time. 

_It’s our first fight_ , he remembered telling Rin. The strange loneliness had nearly choked the words in his throat.

Haru didn't want to feel that way again. But maybe -- looking at Makoto's million-watt grin in the stands -- maybe instead of losing Makoto, he'd gain something else. That rush of sweet relief he'd felt upon coming home after the fight to Makoto's smile had been new, intense. Absence made the heart grow fonder. Maybe new possibilities could mean good things. 

They could lead separate lives now, with Makoto no longer swimming, and have different friends, and still be secure in each other’s lives. Maybe this meant they could survive yet another change, as their relationship evolved into something new.

Haru thought about Makoto pressed close to him, heat in his eyes. Whispering his name.

He hadn't wanted something this badly since he'd learned to swim.

After the races of the day, Makoto and the others met up with Haru, whose hair was wet from the shower instead of the pool, but probably still smelled like chlorine. The red-haired guy he'd seen with them earlier turned out to be Mikoshiba, the elder. "Seijuurou," he said, and Haru's memory twinged. Captain of the Samezuka swim team in their first year and now one the top backstroke swimmers in the country. Haru remembered now seeing him in the earlier heats that day. "Great job out there!" he added, clapping Haru on the shoulder.

Haru hid the flinch of distaste. He didn't know why Makoto inevitably attracted people with no personal boundaries, like this guy and shigino Kisumi. "Thanks," he said. "You're swimming tomorrow as well, right?" 

"Yep. 100m and 200m in back, plus the 200m IM."

Nagisa threw his arms around him. "You were amazing today, Haru-chan!" he cried. "You're definitely going to win tomorrow!"

"Haru-senpai looked in his usual form." Rei attempted to be more restrained, but his starry eyes gave him away. "Such perfect fluidity in the water...gorgeous!"

"I still have to swim tomorrow. Nothing's a given," Haru demurred, but the warm look Makoto shot at him made him shiver a little.

They could change yet again. Something new and something better, he thought to himself, and his smile may have been a little secretive, but Makoto didn't look away.

*

Haru asked Makoto out for lunch on a Saturday, a couple weeks after the magazine photoshoot. With classes and the swim meet, time had flown by before he'd had a chance to talk to Makoto, but he was determined that it was going to happen today. Summer holidays were only another two weeks away and the streets were packed with people taking advantage of the sunny weekend. Haru had had an excellent breakfast of fish, soup, and rice that morning, a message from Ran that Ren apparently had made up with his girlfriend (and an ensuing text, a little later, from Ren complaining about his sister being a blabbermouth), and was in a good mood.

 _Let's just meet at the cafe_ , he'd messaged Makoto when Makoto had asked if he should come by. (And laughingly asked if Haru needed fishing out from his tub.) The cafe was one of their old favorites, a place they'd discovered together their first year in Tokyo together. 

Haru was looking forward to seeing him, hopeful even, the feeling buoyant in his chest.

Makoto was already waiting for him at the cafe, sitting at one of the tables near the big front windows and bent over a book. He looked up when Haru dropped into the seat across from him.

"Hi," said Haru, pleased to see Makoto's answering smile, bright as always.

"Haru! Look, the issue with you came out." He pushed the book, which turned out to be the Y University magazine, across the table. Haru took in the glossy pages and color photos perfunctorily. 

"That means the photoshoot we did at the library is in here?"

"Yep. The issues actually don't get put out until tomorrow night for Monday morning, but they came back from the printers today and Kirishima-san handed me a copy."

Haru paged through the magazine under Makoto's gaze. He found the fashion spread near the middle, a six-page spread accompanying an article talking about hot summer trends. All the seemingly hundreds of photos they took, reduced to ten or so photos over four pages. There was one with just the girls, hair cascading around their piercing gazes, trained close on the camera. There was the one with the piles of books, where the archer was practically draped over Makoto's back. Haru hadn't noticed at the time.

He stopped on the second to last photo and something in his chest tightened. It was a full body shot on the front steps of the library, the last group of photos they'd taken. Haru was pinned between Makoto and the archer, no visible space between any of their bodies, with his face tilted up towards Makoto's and eyes half-lidded. Makoto looked back at him, serious and intent. Their mouths hovered scant centimeters apart, as if sharing a breath between the two of them.

It was patently obvious they had no awareness of anyone else, even the other person lined up against Haru's back. They looked as if the world consisted only of each other.

The earlier buoyant feeling in Haru's chest turned into an ache, sweet. This was what they looked like to everyone else. This is how the rest of the world saw them: eyes for each other, always there for each other. They shared so much already, a history, their families, a lifetime of trust and support. The feeling in his chest felt a lot more like certainty now.

"Makoto..." he said quietly. "These pictures."

"Yeah," Makoto replied, equally softly. "We look good." A flicker of a smile. "We look good together, Haru. Even Kirishima-san said so."

It was a bright Saturday two weeks before summer break and the sun, streaming through the glass of their favorite cafe in Tokyo, was hot on the back of his neck. Haru looked at Makoto over the open magazine. He swallowed and said as honestly as he could, "I like you."

He fought the urge to drop his eyes away, and pushed forward. "Makoto, I really like you."

For a moment, Makoto looked like he didn't know what to say. _Stay calm._ Haru thought of water, the sea back in Iwatobi, peaceful and still on the surface. He had spent so many days, months, years on those beaches, teaching Makoto not to be afraid. He could find a little bit of that courage for himself now.

The smile that finally crept across Makoto's face seemed sweeter than all the ones that had come before it.

"Haru, I like you too. I like you so much. You know you’ve always been one of the most important people to me.”

Haru flushed. How was it that Makoto could make the words sound so easy?

“I-I’m glad,” he stammered.

Makoto reached across the table and took Haru's hand, tangling their fingers together. 

He wanted to kiss Makoto then, lean right over the table and do it now, but he was too aware of the people in the cafe around the and passing by on the street. He didn’t want to make a scene. Instead, he squeezed Makoto’s hand back and stared at him, hoping he could convey his thoughts through that gesture alone.

Makoto remained as mystifyingly telepathic as usual, because he turned pink. “Later,” he said, sounding half shy, half admonishing. “Let’s eat, Haru.”

They reluctantly loosened their fingers and withdrew to their respective sides of the table, but as they had lunch and chatted (where Makoto did most of the chatting and Haru primarily nodded and talked about training), their knees bumped under the table. Makoto’s looked askance at him the first time, unsure, but then he smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. He nudged Haru back, gently.

After lunch, they had about forty minutes before Makoto had to be at the animal shelter where he volunteered on weekends. Haru didn’t want to waste that time, and walked briskly to the nearby park, Makoto in tow.

“Slow down, Haru,” he laughed.

_I don’t want to_ , thought Haru, who didn’t. He found an empty park bench further from the main path of the park, surrounded by trees and presenting a semblance of privacy and grabbed Makoto’s hand again, tugging him in and bracing himself as Makoto collided with him. Tipping his head back, he stretched up on his toes and claimed Makoto’s mouth.

The tail end of Makoto’s startled laugh got swallowed. Haru slid his free hand up Makoto’s chest to cup his cheek, where his fingers pressed warmly against Makoto’s skin.

He kissed him fast and deep and thrilled at the soft sound he got in return.

Makoto’s mouth was hot against his, his tongue sliding against Haru’s, making him shiver and arousal curl low in his belly. Haru’s hand crept into Makoto’s hair.

They separated long enough to stare at each other, breathing heavily, and then Makoto reeled him back, murmuring, “Haru,” eyes dark.

_I’m into you_ , Haru thought, and was embarrassed to say how much. Instead he bit at Makoto’s bottom lip, shifting away only to mouth at Makoto’s his jaw, nip at his throat. Makoto’s pulse jumped under his tongue, and he shuddered as Makoto moaned.

Haru’s blood was rushing south, but he knew they were still in public. They couldn’t go much further.

Makoto panted into his ear, voice low, “Later, Haru.” 

Mystifyingly telepathic. Haru smiled helplessly against Makoto’s neck. .

“I didn’t know you liked guys,” he said.

“Erm,” said Makoto. “You know I’ve dated…”

Haru thought about the girls he’d seen with Makoto over the past two years, none of whom had lasted long. He pulled back enough to raise an eyebrow. “Only girls?”

Makoto looked delightfully rumpled and flushed, pink across the bridge of his nose. “I dated Takazaki for a little while.”

Haru stared at him.

“He’s does archery. He was at the photoshoot with us?”

The _archer_ , Haru realized, eyes going wide. “That guy!”

That guy, who had been plastered across Makoto’s back in one of the shots, who had been crowded against Makoto and then Haru throughout the whole experience. “You dated _that guy?_ ” Haru knew he’d had good reason to hate him.

“Just for a few weeks. We were both too busy in the end and…” Makoto shrugged. “He wasn’t you.”

Haru had to kiss him again then, swift and chaste.

“Later,” he echoed, a promise.

*

Later followed like this:

Haru didn’t believe in hanging up pictures in his locker at the pool, but if he had been the type of person to do so, like Takaba, he would have wanted this moment: Makoto looking at him, nervous and anticipatory, like he was terrified but that Haru was worth all the trouble, the worry, the fear. His shirt collar was skewed, his throat flushed, and the button of his shorts were undone. He looked vulnerable but trusting, offering himself up to Haru’s greedy eyes, sitting back on the bed with his legs spread to fit Haru between them.

_If you’re sure_ , Haru had said, mouth dry, and Makoto had whispered, breathless, “Of course. If it’s you, Haru.”

He was hard and it was because of Haru. He was flushed and turned on and sensitive, because of Haru.

Makoto inhaled sharply as Haru leaned in, sliding a warm hand up his stomach, pushing up his shirt. He pressed a soft, damp kiss to his bellybutton, then dragged his tongue across the skin. Makoto stomach jumped under his mouth. He moaned.

“ _Haru_ , please.”

Haru tugged down the zipper on Makoto’s shorts. Makoto lifted his hips obligingly so he could slide the shorts further down his thighs, enough to expose his tented boxers. There was a wet patch spreading at the tip of his erection that made Haru’s belly tighten with arousal. He dove in, opened his mouth warm and wet right over it.

The sounds Makoto made, ragged, filled his ears as he tongued over the fabric, the heated skin underneath, before he pulled back to yank the boxers off as well. Makoto’s thighs trembled under the grip of his fingers as Haru nosed closer, breathing in deep and taking as much of Makoto in as he could.

He choked a little but Makoto didn’t seem to mind, arching up into Haru’s hands and mouth and making broken sounds and half words. His fingers clutched at Haru’s shoulders when he came.

Haru swallowed mostly out of curiosity and convenience, but he didn’t mind so much when Makoto urged him up to kiss him frantically, sloppily, as their hands tangled between Haru’s legs to jerk him off, fast and slick. He felt his orgasm shoot up his spine, a bright, sharp flash of pleasure.

Afterwards, they lay together sticky and warm in the fading summer afternoon, half-clothed and still catching their breaths. Makoto pressed a kiss to Haru’s temple and Haru retaliated with a bite to his throat, making Makoto laugh and roll even closer.

On second thought, Haru wouldn’t share this with anyone else.

*

Summer holidays fell upon them in the blink of an eye. Haru spent those last two weeks swimming, training, and touching Makoto as much as he could. They had always made time for each other in university, despite being a train ride apart, but the newness of their relationship translated into spending almost every free moment together, and almost all of that time was spent touching each other in some way.

They weren’t making out the whole time, although there was plenty of that. Haru liked the way Makoto looked post-kissing, mouth red and bitten, eyes half-lidded with intent. He liked the mussed hair and the way Makoto’s chest heaved, drawing in air he’d forgotten about while too busy pinning Haru to the tatami and kissing him or making him gasp.

They studied together, too, and ate together, knees brushing or Haru’s hand on Makoto’s thigh. Sometimes he leaned his head on Makoto’s shoulder and Makoto would slide his fingers along Haru’s scalp, massaging, and tease the curling hair at his nape. Sometimes Makoto would stretch his arm along the back of Haru’s seat, sneaking a sideways smile at him. Sometimes Makoto’s hand would drop to the small of Haru’s back, guiding him, as they walked. 

They found endless ways to touch each other, and Haru couldn’t get enough.

He had never been one for excessive physical contact, but Makoto had always been different. Haru couldn’t imagine not wanting Makoto around.

“Sounds unhealthily codependent,” Rin told him when Haru finally admitted to him over Skype how things had changed. He cackled. “But that sounds just like you and Makoto.”

Haru wasn’t even annoyed. “It’s not as if we spend every minute together. I swim and train most of the day.” He had the time that he needed for himself; had the water to bring his mind back into balance and had Makoto laughter to set him back off balance, but in a way he welcomed. 

Anyway, Rin was a hypocrite. “Don’t you and Hannah spend more time together? You have the same coach.”

Rin sputtered, baring his teeth at Haru. “That’s not the same thing at all!”

Which meant Haru was right.

“Thank god Sousuke and Gou aren’t so gross, at least,” Rin sighed. “I couldn’t bear it if they were. I still don’t know why I’m letting that guy date her.”

“Gou does what she wants,” was Haru’s only comment. Rin knew as well as Haru that he didn’t allow his sister to do anything; she was one of the most strong-willed, independent people they both knew. And if Sousuke was making her happy, in all their bickering, teasing bliss…

“We were thinking of going on a trip,” Haru said presently, switching away on his laptop to the tab he had open of possible vacation destinations. “Nagisa wants us to go home, and we will. But before that we might go to the mountains.”

“Hey! You should totally come to Australia! You can come check out my pool and meet the team. We could even race!”

“Makoto wants to go to an onsen,” Haru said, but he considered it.

Rin scoffed, and even his bangs looked agitated on the screen. “You can go to onsen anytime. Come to Australia now, where it’s not as hot.” 

Haru thought about the iconic Sydney skyline from his first, and so far only, trip to Australia with Rin back in high school. He might have an opportunity to go again in the future, for competitions. He wondered if Makoto would enjoy it -- seeing Australia and seeing Rin.

“Seriously, come,” said Rin, as Haru opened a new tab to check prices on flights to Sydney. “Hey, did I tell you I met Michael Phelps? Michael fucking Phelps! The greatest Olympian of all time! Do you know how many records he broke?”

“No, I’ve never heard of him,” Haru said dryly.

“He has _twenty-two Olympic medals_.”

Haru figured he’d ask Makoto what he thought about going to Australia when he came over later. 

“He’s so tall! He’s like a giant. His hands were enormous when we shook -- I wish we would’ve gotten to see him swim, but he was there for some brand promotion. I’m telling you, Haru, his shoulders --”

“That’s really cool,” Haru said, and he meant it sincerely. Meeting one of the greatest swimmers of all time was a pretty big deal. “What’s your girlfriend’s name again?”

He smirked at Rin’s _oh, fuck you_ , and they ended up laughing together. “Seriously, Haru, he won’t be here when you get here, but you should still come visit.”

“I’ll talk to Makoto.” After a few hello kisses, and a few more if Makoto were wearing his glasses. 

Haru glanced out of the window onto the street and the bright blue sky that stretched to the horizon. It still seemed surreal, sometimes, that he got to have Makoto that way now, got to make his eyes light up and whisper his name. Got to touch him and make him shiver in a way nobody else had.

Haru had only dated two girls before Makoto, had only been on two _dates_ before Makoto, but he didn’t need a lifetime of experience to know how lucky he was.

*

From: rantachibana97@docomo.jp  
Subject: ...  
 _Ren and his girlfriend got back together… ー△ー；Haru-nii is coming back for the summer, right? Niichan said you’re going on a trip. Don’t forget about us! ╥_╥_

From: nanase.haruka@wuniversity.jp  
Subject: Re: …  
 _We’re coming back in two weeks. Don’t worry, we’ll bring you a souvenir._

*

On the first day back from summer break, Haru looked up after a set of laps to see Makoto near the back of the pool deck, chatting with Takaba, who was in his jammers and gesticulating wildly as he spoke. With them was Kirishima Ayane, who noticed Haru squinting through his goggles at them. She waved.

Makoto glanced over his shoulder and beamed at him, eyes lighting up like seeing Haru in the morning was still the best part of his day. 

He had his glasses on today, because he’d rolled out of Haru’s bed, rumpled and bleary, at the crack of dawn when Haru had got up for practice. Haru told him he could go back to sleep, but he’d sleepily insisted that he was awake, and he would come to practice too. He’d then proceeded to follow that up by knocking over the stack of books and magazines from Haru’s low table.

Haru hid a smile. Makoto had made it, as promised, albeit an hour later. He looked slightly more awake and coherent than when Haru had left him in the apartment but no less attractive. He still wore simple jeans and a v-neck t-shirt like he could model. Kirishima and her friends would probably ensure that alternative career path continued for him. They knew a good thing when they saw it.

“Nanase! Focus!” 

His coach sounded irate. Haru tipped him an apologetic nod and pushed off the wall for another set of laps. Streaming through the pool, he reeled his attention back in to the movement of his body, every shift in bone and muscle and breath in sync with the water. He would have time later to think about Makoto’s so-called modeling career and the fact that they had another two days before Y University started classes again, which meant another two days Haru got to convince Makoto to just stay over at his place.

They could have lunch later, maybe with Takaba and Kirishima, the girl who’d accidentally changed Haru’s life. Makoto would tell them about their trip to Australia and ask about their summer, what they had done for Obon. He’d tell them he and Haru had gone back to Iwatobi when Kirishima inevitably asked, sliding a knowing smile at Haru when he talked about the festival that had almost been ruined by running into Kisumi, who hadn’t learned to stop touching Makoto excessively despite his -- admittedly cute, admittedly sweet -- girlfriend. The festival had been salvaged by Nagisa’s cheerful obliviousness and Gou’s excitement’s over the giant stuffed jellyfish Sousuke had won her, and the way Makoto had looked at him at the end of the night, kissing him as the fireworks went off in the background.

Summer holidays had been good, but Haru was glad to be back at school. He wanted to focus on swimming and Makoto, the two things that had always been the most important. The future stretched with endless possibilities and Haru was, he realized, pretty excited. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Rin had told them when he’d sent them off at the airport. 

Makoto had squeezed him in a teary hug, but Haru had only smiled. “See you soon,” he’d echoed, certain, before taking Makoto’s hand and heading home.

**Author's Note:**

> My confession: it was super hard not to make SouMako and SeiMako happen just because I ship Makoto/everyone in this bar. Don’t worry, Haru will keep him happy! And I just realized this makes Mako the new Amakata-sensei, the teacher with the questionable modeling side career… If ever I write a sequel (unlikely) or timestamp (more likely) to this, it will be set in Iwatobi with more Sousuke/Gou and Nagisa/Rei, none of whom got enough screentime in this fic, unfortunately. Iwatobi adventures!
> 
> Everything I know about swimming I learned not from Free! but from the Olympics and swimming RPS, because sports anime teaches you almost nothing about the actual sport. (Spoiler: Tezuka did not, in fact, kill all the dinosaurs.)


End file.
